


all the kingdom lights shined just for me and you.

by anndromeda



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Lee Jihoon and his Three Court Jesters, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, and monarchies that aren't dependent on heterosexuality...? idk, just take this soft hansol and go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anndromeda/pseuds/anndromeda
Summary: "Hansol."Jihoon rests the shimmering blade of his rapier upon the other's shoulder, his fingers curling gently around its hilt. Knelt before him, the knight says nothing, merely fixating his gaze upon the ground below in anticipation of the prince's next words."Pledge your loyalty only to me. Follow me unto the ends of this Earth, and never dare to think of leaving my side. Promise on your good name that you will observe your homage to me completely, and protect me from harm at any and all costs."Hansol rests his hand over his heart, allowing one slow, steady exhale to escape his lips as he closes his eyes."Yes, My Lord."
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> beta-read by the lovely [cassiopeia.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiiopeia/profile) ♡

_“Jihoon.”_

A low growl rumbles in the back of the prince’s throat as he jerks his arms out of the grasp of the two guards at his sides. The hood of the cloak that he had donned has long since fallen, hanging sadly behind his head as a taunting reminder of the freedom he had yet again failed to grasp. Irritable at it all—at his failure, at his capture, and at the shame of being brought before the queen to be scolded as though he were a child—Jihoon scowls and sets his eyes firmly to the polished floor below, intent on avoiding the elder’s questioning gaze.

The attempt is useless, of course. He knows well that only a fool would believe himself capable of pulling the wool over Jeonghan’s lovely (yet dangerous) eyes. He supposes that, at the very least, his refusal to look will effectively convey his animosity.

“You tried to run away again.”

Jihoon’s tongue darts across his bottom lip in a quick swipe—nothing more than an anxious habit to him, but worth a thousand words on its own to Jeonghan.

“…I didn’t.”

“You _didn’t?_ ”

In his peripheral vision, Jihoon can see Jeonghan’s arms lower themselves from his chest as he sets his hands firmly upon his hips. He sighs softly, knowing that his fate was now sealed.

“I suppose you were just scaling the gate for _exercise_ , then, Jihoon?”

“You already know why I did it. I’ve told you a hundred times now, Your Majesty.”

Jeonghan falls silent at this, as though taking a moment to consider his response. He then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a subtle way of expressing his disappointment, his eyelids fluttering shut as he proceeds to sigh wearily. He turns around, his footsteps echoing softly in the chamber as he approaches the rightmost throne, taking a seat and resting his cheek against the palm of one hand. With a frown, he glances back at Jihoon.

“You can go when you’re _older_ , Jihoon,” he says gently.

“I want to go _now_ ,” Jihoon retorts, taking a defiant step forward. “What good am I as an heir if I don’t know the kingdom and its people? If I can’t observe the problems firsthand? What am I possibly going to learn shut up in here that I couldn’t learn _better_ if I were out _there_ , where it’s actually _real?_ ”

“Patience,” Jeonghan answers gingerly, “and caution—both makings of a good ruler. As counterproductive as it sounds, it really is in your best interest to wait another year or two, until tensions die down a bit. You still have a lot to learn before you’re ready to go waltzing amongst the people of this kingdom—you haven’t even chosen a _suitor_ yet, Jihoon.”

Jihoon reluctantly lifts his chin, looking up quietly at the queen seated upon his throne. Jeonghan gazes at him in silence, his eyes soft and caring as always, but steeled by a certain glimmer of authority and command. He already knows that Jeonghan is unwilling to budge on his decision (which, by extension, also rules out any hope of convincing his loyal king), but this knowledge does little to quell the frustration boiling in Jihoon’s stomach. He had been so _close;_ if he had just had a minute or two longer before the guards had found and seized him, he’s sure that he would’ve made it over the castle gate. And then he would have been able to hurry off to the town just beyond the palace, intent on seeing the subjects for himself and learning intimately of all their burdens.

Even if he _wanted_ to (and he _doesn’t_ ), Jihoon doubts that he could simply forget about that wish and give up on his efforts. Regardless of how many times the king and queen had spoken to him personally on the subject, Jihoon had never found himself convinced to abandon his own opinion on what was best for him. 

No matter how Jeonghan argued, Jihoon’s heart was ever unwilling to listen. It longed to beat alongside the common people—to share their pain and joy. Despite the good intentions of the king and queen, he knows well that it’s only a matter of time before he creeps out of his room, ruminating on yet another brilliant plan to make it past the castle gates.

If he was good at _anything_ , after all, it was hatching a plan or two.

“I disagree,” he says flatly, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“Oh, for the _love_ of— _Jihoonie_ , what am I supposed to _do_ with you!?” Jeonghan groans, his cheek sliding past his palm so that he could hold the weight of his head in his hand. “You’ve tied your sheets together and sneaked out your window; you’ve dressed up in uniform to avoid being stopped by the guards; oh, and there was that one time you made up the ridiculous notion that there was a secret tunnel beneath the palace; and _now_ you’re scaling _walls?_ ”

Jeonghan lifts his head, looking down at Jihoon with eyes so exhausted that Jihoon almost feels sorry for his actions.

 _Almost_. 

“Jihoonie, I’m _begging_ you. Can’t you stay put for just a while longer? For my sake?”

Jihoon stares back at him silently, replaying the scene from under an hour ago in his head for what must be the twenty-fifth time. He reminisces of the cold stone of the palace gate beneath his hands; of the satisfying burn in his legs from the strain of hauling his weight up along the wall; of the delicious night air that smelled like freedom and cooled his cheek as it blew quietly past. He thinks back on the coldness of night that his cloak had protected him from, and how the goosebumps of going beyond the palace grounds had sent pleasantly invigorating chills throughout his body.

He remembers, vividly, that he had felt _alive_.

“No. I can’t. Sorry.”

Jeonghan doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly allows his gaze to fall from Jihoon’s face to his feet, a small, weary frown settling upon his soft lips. He looks deep in thought, the crease formed by his furrowed brows enough to reveal the depths of his troubled feelings.

Finally, after a long bout of silence, he sighs gently, closing his eyes.

“…Please go to bed, Jihoon. The rest of the guards have been deployed, so save yourself the trouble of a second attempt.”

Jihoon narrows his eyes, glaring for a moment longer before he turns on his heels and begins to walk towards the exit of the throne room, burning with a quiet rage.

“Don’t lose sleep over that,” he says, his voice bitter. “I need a day or two to think of another idea, anyway.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Could I trouble you for your thoughts, Your Highness?”

Jihoon’s scowl lifts just enough to show his appreciation as Seokmin places his meal before him, the aroma wafting up towards him in a trail of heat. Finally setting aside his foul mood and lingering sleepiness to realize how hungry he is, Jihoon snatches up his chopsticks and immediately digs them into the hot bowl of rice. He sighs, finding himself satiated enough by the first few mouthfuls to formulate an answer to the servant’s question.

“You can sit, Seokmin.”

The servant blinks, looking momentarily flustered by the invitation. He eyes the seat next to Jihoon warily, and then, seeming to decide that even the prince’s permission wasn’t enough to earn such a privilege, he awkwardly shifts in place.

“I-I’ll stand, Your Highness,” he says sheepishly, folding his hands in front of him. “What’s troubling you? Get caught again?” 

Jihoon nods with a displeased look, chewing absently as he leans his cheek onto his palm. He stares down hatefully at his food, as though trying to burn a hole through the plate through sheer power of will alone.

“His _Majesty_ thinks that I’m still thirteen,” he grumbles irritably. “It’s been seven years, Seokmin— _seven years!_ I’ve trained, I’ve studied, I’ve practiced, and it’s _still_ not enough yet! It’s as if he thinks someone’s going to rush in to kill me the moment I step foot outside, and even if that _were_ true, it’s not like I’m _defenseless_.”

“I’m sure that His Majesty only keeps you here out of concern, Your Highness,” Seokmin says with a sympathetic smile, starting to pour a hot cup of tea. “His Majesty the Queen and His Majesty the King _did_ choose you as their rightful heir, after all. They must have seen something in you from the very beginning, and judging by their affections now, they have only grown to love you more. In the end, I’m sure that they only have your best interests in mind.”

“Yeah, _sure_ ,” Jihoon mumbles. “Because I’m clearly too young to know what’s in my best interest. Besides, His Majesty told me that he chose me because of my _natural talent_ , and yet after seven years here with him, I’m _still_ helpless in his eyes.”

Seokmin frowns, moving the cup of tea towards Jihoon’s plate.

“The selection of an heir by the king and queen is an ancient custom…and the greatest honor. If it means anything to you, Your Highness, I doubt that His Majesty would have chosen you if he didn’t truly believe that you were capable. But both our king and queen have kind, sensitive hearts, and so…I’m sure that, beneath their words, they’re just afraid that something might take you away from them prematurely.”

“I’m starting to wish that something _would_ ,” Jihoon says lowly, his tone thick with spite. “I didn’t come here to be sheltered for the rest of my life. I already had enough of that back home, and I was _hoping_ that accepting their will would give me the freedom I wanted.”

“Well, I, for one, would be absolutely _devastated_ if something were to take you away, Your Highness,” Seokmin laments, his tone _just_ dramatic enough to get the barest of chuckles from Jihoon.

“ _Thanks_ , Seokmin,” he sighs with a faint smile, shaking his head. “You’re always good to talk to. I just…don’t know what I’m going to do now. His Majesty wants me to continue focusing on my duties here, but I…good _God_ , Seokmin, I’ve studied enough strategy and politics and _whatever_ to rule better than _anyone_ , at this point.”

“Well…you haven’t been clever enough to escape yet, Your Highness.”

Jihoon scowls, throwing Seokmin a disgruntled glare. The servant tenses, immediately lifting his hands in front of him as if to defend himself.

“ _O-Or_ , um…I-I mean, aren’t you supposed to find a suitor at some point? That sounds like more fun than studying, doesn’t it? Perhaps you could occupy yourself with that…if it isn’t too difficult, I mean…”

Jihoon cocks a brow, puffing out his bottom lip.

“…Are you trying to say that it’d be hard for me to find someone, Seokmin?”

“N-No! Not at all!” he all but squeaks, immediately bowing his head. “I-I didn’t mean it like that, Your Highness—” 

“Relax,” Jihoon laughs breathily, a grin finally settling upon his lips, “I’m just messing with you. You’re too skittish, you know.”

“It’s not like I can _help_ that…that was pretty awful of you, Your Highness,” he sighs heavily in relief, looking exhausted. “If you need to take out your frustration, please don’t choose me as the dummy…”

Jihoon shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

“You make it too easy, though. Besides, my mood has improved a little, so you should be happy.”

Seokmin looks up, a small smile returning to his expression as he lets his shoulders relax again. 

“Well…I think that I can take a little bit of a beating if it’ll make you smile again, Your Highness. But, you _are_ twenty now, so I’m sure it would be nice to find someone…and I’m sure His Majesty would be very pleased to see it.”

“I’m not really _looking_ to please His _Majesty_ ,” Jihoon huffs, setting his chopsticks down and crossing his arms defiantly. “Besides, everybody that they’ve picked for me to see has been completely intolerable. If they want me to marry so badly—not that _I_ want to, anyway—then the least they could do is pick someone that I can stand to be around for more than five minutes.”

“That’s just like you, Your Highness,” Seokmin chimes with an amused smile, pouring a second cup of tea after Jihoon finishes his first. “Though, if you’re planning to make another escape plan, it may work in your favor to even _pretend_ to be interested in suitors. If His Majesty believes that you’re tending to your other duties, then he may be less inclined to believe that you intend to sneak out again…”

“Seokmin, are you giving me advice on how to run away from the palace?” Jihoon asks, glancing at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“W-Well,” the servant stutters as he tenses, anxiously averting his gaze. “I…I have no intention of doing anything against His Majesty the Queen and His Majesty the King’s wishes, Your Highness, so if you were thinking of reporting me, I—”

“I’m joking again,” Jihoon interrupts flatly, both amused and awed by the ease in which Seokmin descended into panic. The servant heaves another weary sigh of relief, looking just about ready to drop to the floor.

“Truly terrible, Your Highness,” he murmurs, shaking his head. 

Jihoon laughs this time— _really_ laughs—and finishes the remainder of the morning meal before rising to his feet. He gives Seokmin an appreciative nod, and truthfully, he _does_ feel like his mood has lifted substantially after the conversation. Jihoon had always been fond of conversing with the cook during any meal that he was having alone. Seokmin was always genuine with his advice, knowing well when it was needed and when to shut his mouth instead. It was comforting to have those who he could confide in within the palace—especially those who were sympathetic to why Jihoon was choosing to act out in the way that he was, and did not think any less of him for it.

For Seokmin’s sake, Jihoon decides that perhaps today is a day to give it a rest. He’ll distract himself with some mundane tasks for the duration of the day, and tomorrow, he supposes that he can begin working on yet another strategy for slipping past the guards and beyond the palace walls.

“I think that I’ll go read something in my chamber for a while,” he declares, beginning to walk around the table towards the exit of the room. “Thank you for your service, Seokmin. It’s good to know that I can always trust you.”

Seokmin’s brows lift in surprise as this, followed immediately by an eager smile as he quickly bows his head. Even without looking at him, Jihoon can practically _feel_ the other’s elation at having been praised, and finds a slight smirk of his own settling upon his lips.

“Of course, Your Highness!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Jihoon mulls over the selection of books that await him in his chambers, having stared at the shelves out of utter boredom enough times that recalling the titles in his head is an easy feat. He considers the idea of simply hunkering down within his room and indulging in one of the many novels he’s collected, recalling that he had recently received one that he had not yet read. It’s a suitable plan, considering the thought of going anywhere in the palace and running into Jeonghan or Seungcheol leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Besides, he could use an escape from reality for a while to distract himself from the lingering disappointment of his failed escapade the night prior.

His steps slow to a halt, however, as he rounds the corner and looks down the corridor towards the entrance to his chambers. He unexpectedly finds that _someone_ is standing just outside his door, and Jihoon is _more_ than certain that he hadn’t spoken to a single servant since last night other than Seokmin. Jihoon can’t say that he recognizes the man, whoever he is, although judging by the more refined clothing and light armor that he wears, he’s likely some form of palace knight. Which is _strange_ , he thinks, considering that the knights are rarely ever seen this far into the interior of the palace unless they mean to escort someone. The possibility that Jeonghan had sent for a knight to retrieve and drag him back to the throne room for another talk enters his mind, and Jihoon scowls at the prospect, deciding that if it were the case, he would adamantly refuse to go along with the knight and make up some excuse about feeling ill.

Putting on his most intimidating expression, Jihoon approaches the knight, who seems to have finally noticed his presence (shouldn’t he have been paying more attention?) and has turned towards him.

“This is my chamber,” he states bluntly, hoping that perhaps that alone might prompt the other to take his leave. He _did_ look quite young, after all, as though he may be just as old as himself, and so Jihoon considers the possibility that he’s simply a very, _very_ lost recruit.

But the knight simply blinks at him in momentary silence, showing no real reaction to his words, as though they’d simply flown right over his head. He then shrugs slightly beneath his shoulder plates, his expression neutral.

“…So it is,” he says, not seeming particularly interested.

Jihoon feels his eye twitch.

“My name is _Jihoon_ ,” he continues pointedly, a twinge of irritation prickling at the back of his neck. “I’d like some _privacy_ , so please leave. Not that you should be here, anyway. I don’t recall calling for a guard.”

“Oh. You didn’t,” the knight answers plainly, looking completely unaffected by Jihoon’s reaffirmation of his identity. “His Majesty the Queen did.”

Immediately, Jihoon feels any plan to relax and take things easy for the rest of the day vanish from his mind. It is replaced by the familiar burning frustration that had gnawed at him all night long, and part of him is tempted to simply tell the knight to take him to Jeonghan so he can give him a piece of his mind, respect to the throne be damned. But the more rational, reasonable part of his mind stifles the idea, and he decides that for the time being, focusing his annoyance on this guard will work to soothe his irritation long enough to write up a mini-speech in his head to eventually deliver to the king and queen in a _very_ particular tone.

“His _Majesty_ sent you,” Jihoon repeats slowly, glaring up at the guard icily. “And what did he send you here to _do_ , exactly?”

The knight looks down at him, still appearing entirely unfazed by the prince’s intimidation. It bothers Jihoon quite a bit, considering it’s typically enough to frighten any other servant in the palace to complete and utter submission. But he supposes that Jeonghan wouldn’t have chosen any typical servant if he had truly sent one, considering their conversation the night prior. While the boy is young, his features are sharp and defined, giving him a rugged, youthful beauty that, in combination with his nonchalant attitude, put together the image of a refined and responsible knight. Jihoon suspects that it will take much more than his usual poor attitude to irritate this guard, and, if he truly is so well-trained, he presumes that escaping from a possible escort to the throne room will be near impossible. Frowning, he curses Jeonghan for having the sense to _finally_ send someone with a little competence. 

“His Majesty has relocated me from the barracks. I’m to be your personal guard from this point forward, Your Highness.”

The irritation growing in Jihoon’s stomach instantly roars up into hot flames of anger. He unconsciously clenches his fists at his sides, lips thinned into a tight line and eyes shining with animosity.

“My _personal guard?_ ” he echoes venomously, hoping that at least _this_ expression will draw _some_ sort of reaction out of the knight.

It doesn’t. He merely nods, unchanged.

“I’ve been ordered to your service, Your Highness. His Majesty the Queen has told me to accompany you anywhere you might need an escort, to guard your chamber when you are inside, and to prevent you from participating in any dangerous activity.”

Jihoon squints.

“…So, in other words, His Majesty got me a _babysitter_.” 

The guard blinks, looking up thoughtfully.

“…Huh. Yeah, I guess you could put it that way, Your Highness.”

Momentarily taken back by the guard’s bluntness, Jihoon decides that he’s either a true and utter _bastard_ who knows _exactly_ what he’s doing, or that he has a screw or two loose inside his head. Either way, he’s incredibly displeased at the thought of some stranger following him around everywhere and watching everything that he does. Not only would this make it impossible for him to formulate any effective means of escape, but it would quite literally ruin _everything_ that he liked about having personal time to himself in private rooms within the palace.

And, more than anything, Jihoon _needs_ his alone time. He quickly decides that he’s completely and utterly unwilling to sacrifice it, even by Jeonghan’s command, and _especially_ to some random palace guard.

“Sorry,” he says firmly, “but I have no need for a, how did you say it, _personal guard_. I’m more than capable of taking care of _myself_ , thank you very much, so step aside and go run off to…wherever it is that you were before this. I’d like some time alone in my chamber.”

The guard nods simply, stepping aside and clearing the entrance to the room. Jihoon raises his brows, surprised by how quickly the other complied with his request. He eyes him suspiciously for a moment, before shrugging and stepping forwards to open the door.

“I’ll be standing guard out here if you need me, Your Highness.”

Jihoon immediately swivels his head around to look back at the knight, scowling.

“What did I _just_ say?”

The knight stares back at him blankly.

“…That you want to be alone in your chamber?”

“ _Before_ that.”

There’s a brief moment of silence as the guard seems to ponder over this, clearly having difficulty formulating a response. Jihoon sighs heavily, pushing open his door and stepping inside the comfort of his chamber. He turns around with a severe look, holding the door open with one hand and placing the other authoritatively upon his hip.

“I do _not_ require your services, knight. I don’t know how much His Majesty told you, but I can assure you that I have no intention of letting some guy walk me around like a child. I want you to _leave_.” 

The guard frowns.

“But…what if you run into trouble and need help?”

Jihoon gives him a pointed, cynical look. He can’t help but notice that the concern on the other’s face seems genuine, but even so, it doesn’t change the fact that it annoys the hell out of him. Longing to shut himself away from everyone for a while and comfortably lose himself in a book, Jihoon shakes his head firmly.

“In my _room_? I highly doubt it. And besides, like I said, I can defend _myself_. I’m not helpless. Now, good _bye_.” 

“But,” the knight interrupts once again, taking a step forward as Jihoon pauses halfway through shutting the door. His brows are knitted together in worry, eyes unexpectedly gentle, and for just a moment, Jihoon considers reopening the door and hearing him out for one minute longer.

“…You’re so… _little_.”

Jihoon promptly slams the door in his face.


	3. Chapter 3

“With all due respect, this is probably the _worst_ thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Jeonghan sighs heavily, crossing his arms as he sits up upon his throne. Jihoon glares up at him spitefully, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he waits for the queen’s response. Surely enough, the knight he had encountered prior is standing just a few feet behind him, silent and attentive, his arms folded stiffly behind his back. He looks equally as lost in the situation as the king does, sitting absently upon his throne, glancing every now and then towards Jeonghan as if searching his expression for some sort of guidance on how to present himself.

“Jihoon, I know that you’re upset,” Jeonghan begins gently, “but you really left me with no other choice.”

“No other—are you out of your _mind!?_ ” Jihoon snaps, looking at the queen incredulously. “Your only option was to hire a _babysitter!?_ That’s the best course of action that you could think up!?”

“But Hansol isn’t a babysitter,” Seungcheol speaks up suddenly, straightening his posture. “He’s one of our knights, and his seniors only had good things to say about him. There’s no harm in a little extra protection, given that you’re a prince…”

“But you didn’t send him to _protect_ me,” Jihoon argues, “you sent him to _monitor_ me. You’re just trying to tie me to a pole to keep me in your sights!”

“Can you really _blame_ us, Jihoonie?” Jeonghan sighs, shaking his head. “We’ve talked to you more times than we can count, now, and you’re _still_ coming up with ridiculous plans to leave the palace. I asked you countless times to trust me, but you’ve gone back on your word every time. We only want to keep you _safe_ , Jihoonie…”

“Safe from _what?_ ” the prince growls, his brow twitching in frustration. “You’re treating me like I’m a child! I’ve been training in swordplay since I was _fourteen_ , Jeonghan. Not only that, but I’ve studied more strategy than you could think of. Do you seriously think I’m going to be helpless on my own?”

“Of course not,” he replies softly, a sad look upon his features that almost makes Jihoon regret his tone. “It’s just that we’ve had several instances of conflict recently, and it’s simply…it’s _dangerous_ out there, Jihoon, and I know you only want to get to know the kingdom better, but at a time like this…perhaps it’s selfish of us, but we simply don’t want to _lose_ you to something so… _preventable_.”

The queen looks down, his eyes dark.

“Seungcheol and I believe that you will be the greatest ruler in our history when the time comes. We have full faith in you and your abilities…which is why we’re so afraid of losing you, Jihoon. But…we also don’t want to keep you here against your will. If at any time you no longer desire your title, I promise that we will let you relinquish it at once and—”

“I never said that,” Jihoon murmurs softly, averting his gaze. “Of course I still want to be your heir. I want to take care of this kingdom. All I want is a chance to see the people who I’ll be responsible for someday.”

“Then wait just a little while longer, Jihoonie,” Jeonghan says, looking at the prince sympathetically. “Indulge me for just a little longer, please? We hope to end this war soon, whether it be through ceasefire or victory. Once our kingdom is at peace, I promise that you will be able to visit as much of it as you’d like.”

“But this is the most tumultuous time of their lives,” Jihoon protests. “The war has probably impacted everyone in our kingdom—what kind of ruler would I be to ignore what they think should be done? And how will I _know_ what they want if I can’t speak to them?”

“We are always in contact with our people,” Jeonghan replies calmly. “Our knights often tend to the citizens’ needs, and deliver their word to us…”

“It’s not _enough_ ,” Jihoon snaps. “We should be establishing a _connection_ with them. They should know the faces of their leaders, and have faith in us.”

“And what will you do when the people _lose_ their leaders as a result of a simple visit to the town? It would be unwise to put targets on our backs during a time of conflict, Jihoon.”

Jihoon frowns, crossing his arms and mulling over Jeonghan’s argument for a moment. He then sighs, looking up and resting his gaze upon Seungcheol, who sits quietly upon his throne, observing the conversation.

“What do _you_ think, Your Majesty?”

Seungcheol jerks upright, clearly not expecting to be addressed personally. He blinks at Jihoon, pausing, before quickly glancing in Jeonghan’s direction. 

“…I, ah…I agree with Jeonghan. I understand how you feel, but…it would be best to wait until tensions die down more. Otherwise, we would be putting our entire regime at risk…”

“Is that _really_ how you feel?” Jihoon questions, brow cocked in skepticism. “Or are you just agreeing with His Majesty because you’d throw yourself off the top of this palace if he asked you to?”

“ _Jihoon_ ,” Jeonghan scolds, shooting him a disapproving glare. 

Jihoon opens his mouth to defend himself, but as he scrutinizes Seungcheol’s expression, he decides that the king is likely wondering to himself how far of a drop it would be from the top of the palace to the ground. _Whipped_ , he thinks to himself bitterly, knowing that it would be useless to argue the topic further.

“…Whatever,” he mutters. “I still refuse to be followed around like I’m a child. Tell this guy that he can go back to the barracks, will you?”

Jeonghan looks towards Hansol, who stiffens and, seeming unsure of how to react to the other’s gaze, awkwardly bows his head in respect. Jihoon glances quickly in his direction as well, wondering if it was simply the presence of the king and queen causing his gracelessness or whether he’d completely misjudged his refined image from the get-go.

“…I’m sorry, Jihoonie, but I’m tired of having the guards drag you in here every other day just to stop you from some ridiculous escapade. I’d like Hansol to remain as your personal guard for the time being, until this isn’t a concern anymore.”

Jeonghan smiles gently at the knight, resting his hands in his lap.

“Please watch over him well, Sir Knight.”

Hansol nods reluctantly, silently lowering himself to one knee in acceptance of the queen’s request. He does not speak. Jihoon notices suddenly that he hadn’t in some time now—not since the moment Jihoon had demanded him to come with him to the throne room to formally address the issue with the king and queen. He vaguely recalls their first conversation, blunt and unpleasant as it was, and momentarily wonders if perhaps his conversational skills were not nearly up to par with his skills as a knight. 

At the very least, that would mean he doesn’t have to worry about dealing with someone who can’t shut their mouths for five minutes—otherwise known as at least ninety percent of the suitors Jeonghan had arranged for him to meet. The thought is only slightly reassuring given the fact that he still has to deal with someone escorting him around, but it’s reassuring nonetheless. He can at least survive _that_ much.

It’s going to be a _long_ year, Jihoon thinks absently to himself, licking his dry lips.

  
  


* * *

“You slammed the _door_ in his _face?_ ”

Jihoon finds the slightest of smiles creeping onto his lips at the sound of Seungkwan’s boisterous laughter, the tailor having to take a moment to pause in his measurement-taking to collect himself. Seungkwan was another sight for sore eyes around the palace, and given the stream of annoyances pestering Jihoon today, he was grateful to be called down for preparations for a new outfit. The prince didn’t laugh easily, in the opinion of most, but Seungkwan always seemed to be the exception with his upbeat, infectious attitude.

“You really _are_ a tough nut to crack, Your Highness,” Seungkwan sighs, grinning as he runs his thumb beneath his watering eye. “But I suppose that one was inevitable. The last guy who said that to you—what was it? A broken nose? I remember laughing so hard that I didn’t even care about all the blood on your new shirt.”

“Just when I’d gotten myself in a decent mood, too,” Jihoon chuckles breathily, nodding his head. “I guess he was just taking orders, though. He didn’t have much to say.”

“Taking orders, huh,” Seungkwan muses, wrapping the tape measure around Jihoon’s chest and jotting down the measurement. “His Majesty really did send someone to keep watch on you, then? Where is he now?”

“Outside the room,” Jihoon answers. “I told him I’d be a while, and that you make me take off all my clothes for measurements. That was enough for him.”

“How’d you think _that_ one up?” Seungkwan snorts, moving down to Jihoon’s waist. “If I had you strip for this, His Majesty the Queen would be holding a public execution with me as the star guest.” 

“I knew it’d work,” Jihoon says with a shrug. “I don’t know, he doesn’t really come off as a _people_ _person_. He’s awkward and doesn’t really seem to know how to talk to me—or anyone, really. So I figured, you know, the _last_ thing he’d want to do is see me naked.”

Seungkwan smiles, sighing appreciatively as he stands up straight to look at Jihoon.

“This is why I love you, Your Highness. Even with a guardian following you around everywhere, you _still_ find a way to come and deliver the gossip. Could I ask for a better liege?”

“No,” Jihoon hums with a satisfied smirk, “I’m the best. I’m aware.”

Seungkwan laughs again at that, lifting the parchment to look over the measurements he’d taken thus far. He hums idly to himself as he steps around Jihoon, sizing him up at certain angles and jotting down another note to himself here and there.

“I’m going to go and get some certain fabric that I’ve been saving,” he says after a few more moments, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I think it’ll fit what I have in mind…don’t go running off anywhere, Your Highness.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Jihoon sighs, his eyes lazily tracing a pattern along the polished floor. Seungkwan’s footsteps grow more and more faint as he leaves for one of the storage rooms linked to the fitting room, and within the minute, he finds himself silent and alone, mulling over his thoughts. 

The quiet is only broken when he hears the tell-tale rustling of fabrics to his right. 

He immediately swivels his head to its source, squinting inquisitively at the rack of clothing hanging along the wall. His first thought, ridiculous as it is, is some sort of animal, but as his gaze falls to the floor, he can just manage to make out the front of _someone’s_ shoes hiding behind the hanging robes and trousers. An internal, instinctual voice in his mind chimes that perhaps it’s time to call for the guard he knows is standing directly outside of the room, but the more rational part of him quickly argues that no assassin worth half his salt would be stupid and clumsy enough to make his presence known the moment that Jihoon was alone and vulnerable. 

Even so, he can feel his heart skip a beat or two as he stares intensely at where he assumes the person is standing. Perhaps for comfort, Jihoon’s hand settles itself upon the hilt of his rapier.

“…Who’s there?”

Whoever stands behind the fabrics is silent for a moment, before, slowly, he stands on his toes and peers over the top of the clothing rack. His eyes are squinting, but even so, their characteristic brightness along with his short, tousled hair gives Jihoon all the confirmation of his identity that he needs.

“ _Soonyoung_ ,” he sighs, letting his hand fall to his side. “What in the world were you doing behind there? If I’d not known better, I would’ve thought that you may be an assassin.”

The other ducks through the clothing, stepping into the open space and revealing himself fully. He grins sheepishly at the prince, swinging his arms behind his back and feigning an innocent look (that Jihoon absolutely does not buy).

“Just… _hanging around_ ,” he hums, nodding towards the hanging clothes behind him with a look that begs for a laugh.

Jihoon rolls his eyes instead.

“More importantly, what’re _you_ doing here, Your Highness?” Soonyoung asks curiously, taking a step closer. “I figured by now you would’ve hatched another plan. You were, like, _so_ close to scaling that wall, you know? I was rooting for you, man.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” Jihoon replies bitterly, frowning. “Seungkwan is planning my outfit for the upcoming banquet. It’s a ways away, but he figured we should start early, while I’m still in the palace and not trying to worm my way out of it.”

He pauses, averting his gaze with a spiteful look.

“…But it’s not like I can work on another plan, anyway. His Majesty the Queen ordered a guard to keep watch on me so that my whereabouts are always accounted for, and I haven’t found a way around it yet.”

“Whoa. You got a _babysitter?_ ” Soonyoung remarks, completely oblivious to Jihoon’s increasing irritation. “That’s rough, Your Highness. How’re you gonna weasel your way out of this one?”

“I just _told_ you,” Jihoon says with a scowl, “I don’t _know_ yet. I figure that in time, I’ll find _some_ way to pull the wool over his eyes and slip off.”

“ _Some_ way,” Soonyoung echoes to himself, bringing a hand to his chin. “Some way to make an escape…”

Abruptly, he looks up, seeming to have thought of some miraculous solution to the dilemma. Soonyoung nods with a determined look, grabbing Jihoon’s hands in his own and lifting them up to chest-level. His expression turns fierce, as though focused on some life-or-death situation, closing his eyes and gently beginning to squeeze with his hands. Jihoon blinks, looking down at their intertwined hands and frowning in confusion.

“…Um. What are you _doing_ , Soonyoung?”

“I’m imbuing you with the Spirit of the Tiger,” Soonyoung responds without hesitation, his expression remaining. “With this strength, you’ll be able to endure even the most challenging obstacles, and you’ll be able to— _eugh!?_ Ah, ow, _ow!_ ”

Soonyoung tears himself away from Jihoon with a yelp, ducking his head and covering it with both hands as Seungkwan begins thwacking him with a rolled-up bolt of fabric.

“ _You_ , I told you to stay _out_ of this room! What do you think you’re doing here, Soonyoung!? You thought I wouldn’t catch you? Do you think I’m _stupid!?_ ”

“Ow, _oww!_ ” Soonyoung wails, flailing his hands blindly in the air to try and swat the other’s makeshift weapon away from him. “Yes, _obviously_ I do—ow, _ow!_ Your Highness, I’m being _murdered!_ Ow, it _huuurts!_ Make him _stop_ , Your Highness—!”

Jihoon groans, holding a hand to his forehead to nurse an oncoming headache. He looks towards Seungkwan, furrowing his brows with a puzzled look.

“What’d he do _this_ time?”

“He’s been sneaking in here and trying to make off with _my_ supplies,” Seungkwan declares furiously, giving Soonyoung one more solid _whack_ for good measure. “I know that you’re just a jester, but even _you_ should know not to _steal_ —”

“I wasn’t stealing!” Soonyoung protests, “I only did it because you refused to make me my tiger hat! Which was totally rude, by the way! You’re not even busy this week!”

“You don’t even know how to sew!” Seungkwan scolds, placing his hands upon his hips. “Just what were you planning to do, even if you miraculously managed to make off with the fabric you’d need?”

“I would’ve figured it out!” Soonyoung whines, crossing his arms with a pout. “This is _so_ unfair—”

“Your Highness?”

All three heads turn towards the entrance of the room, where Hansol leans in from the doorway, a concerned look upon his face. He frowns as he glances between Seungkwan and Soonyoung, as if trying to determine what kind of threat either of them might pose.

“…I, uh. I heard yelling, so…is everything okay in here?”

Jihoon sighs heavily, crossing his arms and looking away with a displeased expression.

“Everything’s _fine_. Soonyoung was just playing another one of his jokes. You can go back outside now.

Hansol hesitates, his expression absent for a moment, before he reluctantly shrugs and nods in compliance. He ducks out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Soonyoung and Seungkwan remain silent, gazing at the now-closed door with curious eyes.

“…Huh,” Seungkwan suddenly says, his brows raised. “Not gonna lie, he’s kind of a _catch_ , Your Highness.”

Jihoon crinkles his nose in distaste, shooting Seungkwan a disappointed look as Soonyoung bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Maybe you could set him up with Seungkwannie and make your escape _then_ , Your Highness!” Soonyoung snickers, showing no attempt to conceal his amusement. “After all, once you get him going, Seungkwannie’ll talk and talk and talk until you—ow, _ow!_ ”

“You’ve got a big mouth, Soonyoung,” Seungkwan mutters as he pinches the other’s ear tightly, tugging on it as Soonyoung whines helplessly.

The tailor turns his attention back towards Jihoon, still holding the bolt of fabric in one hand.

“Shall we resume, Your Highness? If it helps, I can make Soonyoung go sit in the corner over there while I work.”

Soonyoung looks up pleadingly at Jihoon despite Seungkwan’s hold on his ear, silently begging for mercy from the tailor’s wrath. The prince glances between him and Seungkwan for a few moments before he sighs with a hopeless smile, shaking his head at their antics. Despite their rowdiness and over-the-top reactions, he supposes that they really _are_ entertaining, and their presence is as nice of a distraction as any from the storm of troubles brewing inside of his head.

“You can spare him for now, Seungkwan. If we’re going to be here for a little while longer, I wouldn’t mind the company.”


End file.
